


All Day Graves

by Pent



Series: The Dawn Mirage [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters: Ruby & Sapphire & Emerald | Pokemon Ruby Sapphire Emerald Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apocalypse, Dark, Dead Pokemon, Death, Gen, Horror, M/M, Natural Disasters, Post-Apocalypse, Post-ORAS, Realistic, Survival, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:32:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7679242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pent/pseuds/Pent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Groudon's apocalyptic drought left the final mark in human civilization. The world is over, but there are survivors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Day Graves

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this last year but never posted it............... ;O; This is the second, stand-alone installment to my "what if no one was able to stop Groudon" post-apocalyptic series, The Dawn Mirage.

In the time after Groudon, morning was when you woke up lucky enough to have a pulse.

With the last of humanity clinging onto life in the deepest crevices of the earth to shield themselves from the eternal sun outside, the very concept of morning was long shattered. Yet another fragment of civilization to die alongside their extinction.

A man of tradition, Wallace begins his morning routine by peeling himself from the cold, stone floor of the Cave of Origin after waking from an exhausting nightmare. His hands are shaking today as he holds one to Steven’s nose. Hot, shallow breaths warm his skin. Steven’s face is dark and sunken, but he’s still alive. Still breathing.

It’s enough for Wallace to heave himself up for the third step of his routine: a daily pilgrimage across the open, flat expanse of the cave to the most secluded place he can find to pray. When they first made their home inside the cave, Steven called the area a twilight zone—a sweet spot where humans could survive with enough light to see after a few months of adaption. More importantly, it was far enough away from the entrance of the cave to keep from melting.

A skinny ledge overlooks the murky subterranean lake in the Cave of Origin. Wallace has no offering to give, no bell to ring, and no longer a god to worship, but he goes through the old motions, thankful that Steven still draws breath and for this precious water postponing everyone’s deaths. His hands don’t tremble folded together, and he keeps his eyes open when he bows, peeking at his ghost of a reflection in the black waters below. Twice, and then a third time.

When he returns, Steven’s sitting up with his legs crossed. His eyes follow Wallace, who sits down next to him.

“We have to look for more supplies soon. Outside…” Steven murmurs. Someone’s dying cough—a child’s from the sound of it—echos through the walls of the cave, but neither of them care to raise their heads. “There’s only thirty-two of us now… so we don’t need much.”

“Then let’s go today,” says Wallace.

“Today?”

“Yes. Today.” A sharp pinch of concern causes Wallace to frown. Everyone looks sick these days, but Steven even more so. With soft hands, Wallace cups a hand to Steven’s face, and tilts his chin up to look into his dry eyes. There isn’t a shred of fear in them. Wallace can hardly find any emotion at all. “Are you well enough?”

Steven nuzzles his way out of Wallace’s touch to look at the ground, and Wallace brushes his hand down the length of his arm, which feels bony under his clothes. “I’m as well as I’ll ever be. Today is fine.”

Tightening his hands around Steven’s, Wallace whispers, “Posture, love.”

Steven looks at him in wide, searching surprise. “Wh—”

“You’re slouching. It’s bad for your back.”

“Oh…” Steven says, struggling to sit up straight. He’s stunned, and his eyes shine with more feeling than they have in days. Months, even. “Sorry.”

 

* * *

 

The smell. The overwhelming stench of death and rot outside was something that no one could adapt to, but Steven and Wallace had come to a point where they could breath the air without gagging.

They emerge from the cave, whipped by the scalding winds and plagued by that wretched smell, not bothering to cover their noses today. Wallace casts his eyes towards the ground, where the mangled bones of half of a skeleton are baked into the cracking, desert ground.

At the corpse, they always go left. But Wallace takes a confident, single step to the right.

“Wallace?” Steven rasps. It was hard to not feel winded, but he carried on. “Where are you going? Wallace?”

Normally, Wallace averts his eyes, but today, he shields them to stare at the decaying Sootopolis Gym looming over the crater in the distance. Most of the building is succumbing to the weather now, as it teeters dangerously off the edge of the rocky pillar that is almost completely eroded—eaten alive by the blistering sun. The gym is splitting in half with painful groans, ready to turn into charred debris in the bone-dry chasm below. Strips of the roof peel upwards and curl into themselves, and large cracks bolt through its former walls.

Forgetting to breath, Wallace continues ahead, down the once sacred lane towards the gnarled, dead remains of the great tree that once was rooted there.

Not wasting his breath to speak again, Steven jogs over while Wallace rests a hand on the remains of the tree and forces himself to stare at the horrors of his old life within the dry crater. His punishment, his shame.

Wallace tenses when Steven hugs him from behind, arms bony against his chest. Eventually, he settles, not taking his eyes off of the gym. Wallace kisses Steven, an automatic action from a life now passed.

Despite Steven trying his hardest to pull him back, Wallace advances towards the edge of the former waters. The coppery, molten stench becomes unbearable, worse than either of them imagined. Steven covers his nose and mouth with one hand, hugging himself with the other, trying to stop Wallace with a helpless look. But Wallace continues until his feet are both halfway over the chasm, pebbles and dry dirt bouncing down the cliffside.

Piles—piles of rotted water pokémon fill the bottom of the crater, their bones and remains melted by the apocalyptic sun. It’s only then that Wallace covers his mouth, squeezes his eyes shut and throws himself onto the ground in a dizzying haze in the opposite direction. Wallace is on all fours, retching up the little that was in his stomach when Steven runs over to him, crashing to his knees to hold him.

After Wallace stops shaking, he says, “Let’s go.” His voice still quivers through force. “We can’t be out here much longer. Everyone’s counting on us.” They clasp hands, and Steven pulls him up in a way that makes him lightheaded.

Past the Cave of Origin’s cracking entrance, they go left at the skeleton.


End file.
